


The Sky over Fitton

by Enigel



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Aeroplanes, Community: cabinpres_fic, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigel/pseuds/Enigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Lockheed Martin. Douglas Aircraft Company. Is there anything in this, do you think?"</p><p>Me: "Well no, it's just a coinci- <em>oooh</em>. This. Might. Just. Work."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sky over Fitton

**Author's Note:**

> If you recognise it, it was originally [posted anon here](http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/728.html?thread=520408#t520408).

"Hello there, little chap," the DC-9 said, rolling casually to its parking place.

The small jet bristled its flaps.

"I'm not little, I am a _stealth_ fighter jet."

"Hm, whatever gets you through the day... What are you doing mingling with us commercial plebeians then, oh mighty fighter?"

"This was the most convenient airfield for the presentation."

"Oh." The bigger plane made a short well-calculated pause. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Well, you must be a prototype, aren't you?"

"M-maybe. So what if I am?"

"Oh, nothing." The DC-9's flaps made a small non-committal _flop_. "You know what they say about prototypes..."

"What?"

"Ah, you know." Another pause. "That they're not... all there."

"That is completely unfair!" The small jet floundered about, sun failing to reflect off its dull grey metal. "I'm a latest generation prototype meant to demonstrate the full extent of my flight capabilities under hostile conditions to a very demanding client! There's nothing... not there about it!"

"Of course. You do look and sound like a paragon of finely tuned control..."

The Lockheed Martin stopped and glared suspiciously at the McDonnell Douglas. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Who, me? Perish the thought. I wouldn't dare challenge a brave future harbinger of war like yourself..."

The small jet drew back a little, its wings seeming to fold in on themselves. "I don't like to think about that."

"Maybe you'll get lucky and be stuck doing demonstrations at air shows..."

"Anyway, what are _you_ doing in Fitton? I thought you mighty Air England jets didn't set wheel on such lowly strips."

"Hm," the DC-9 muttered. "They're replacing us with some MD-something or other whippersnappers. I'm being sold to one of those dreadful low budget airlines. Goodbye, Heathrow, hello... Fitton."

"Sick of your petrol-guzzling, were they?"

The DC-9 rumbled and the sun glared haughtily off its cockpit window.

"I wouldn't talk about guzzling if I were you. How many small countries could the money spent on your creation have taken out of debt?"

"Fair enough," the prototype muttered. "Well, the client's here, I must be off now. Don't suppose I'll see you again."

"Oh, you never know where the instruments take you..." the DC-9 drawled. "Have fun tricking the UFO nutters!"

"Have fun... travelling the world over, I suppose," the lithe jet said, with a small wistful flap of its rudder.

"And good luck," the bigger plane added in a softer tone.

Men in business suits and military uniforms were already milling about the grey jet, setting it into motion. "Th-thanks," it remembered to stammer, surprised, just before it took off.

The DC-9 followed its progress in the skies until it was but a tiny speck.

"Better work on that reaction speed," it murmured softly. "Clear skies, o mighty warrior! I do have the feeling I'll be seeing you again..."


End file.
